


Loch

by kaizerian



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Green Lantern (Comics), Justice League - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2020-02-18 14:55:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18701860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaizerian/pseuds/kaizerian
Summary: An ode to the thorny relationship between Hal and Bruce. In short, what if Bruce had been the one to push Hal over the line, into the abyss?





	Loch

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This work exists in some weird canon on its own, combining Justice League: War, BvS and Green Lantern. I wanted to explore the possibility that Bruce was the one to trigger Hal’s tipping point and to push him to confront himself. What would be the fallout of that? My writing style for Batlantern is far too much inspired by FabulaRasa, who is the mother of all Batlantern fanfiction.

Never let it be said that Hal Jordan backed down from a challenge, or in this case, finding where the hell he had put that kryptonite spear. Bruce would have his head—no, he would skin him alive, if he found out that good ol’ Hal had fucking lost it. “Can you imagine the sheer cost of the spear falling into Luthor’s hands, or anyone for that matter?” Fury would however always turn into this cold, mocking sneer. “Of course, what was I thinking, placing the spear in your hands? You can’t even remember where your own flight suit is most of the time.”

Hal clenched his knuckles, and repeated Oliver’s mantra in his head over and over again in an effort to not shatter that immaculate jaw. It’s us against the problem. It’s not me versus him. It’s us against the problem. Yeah right, sure sounds a lot like that right now when he created the problem to begin with and Bruce was having no qualms going to town on his ass. And not in the nice way. 

“Look—it’s not like I meant to lose it—“ 

“Of course you never do. It’s always Hal Jordan, so unafraid, so impulsive. Launching into everything without preparation, not giving a single fuck about his own teammate, hell, humanity’s only hope against Darkseid, by losing a weapon capable of killing him. Get your head out of your own ass and stop snivelling. Find it with the ring.”

“The ring doesn’t detect kryptonite, especially the artificial kind manufactured for the spear. I tried.”

Hal looked into Bruce’s face, the cowl up. The white lenses mirrored back his expression. Bruce was right. He was a snivelling little kid who never really played well with the hard-hitters, Clark, Bruce, Diana, Arthur. He was brought into the League because they needed to understand, to control the Green Lantern power. And now Hal’s fucked them over with his presence. Inflicted them like some poison lodged into the League, spreading and corrupting every single person. Even Bruce. 

When he and Bruce had that chat after a few too many early noons in bed, he had warned Bruce. “I don’t play well with a team, much less with you. Baby, I’ll say our groove fits more with fucking each other’s brains out, rather than you know, playing some kind of earth cop. One sector’s enough, pfft.” With the typical narrowing of his eyes, Bruce flipped him over and lay spread eagle over top, mouthing on Hal’s neck. 

“You will join.” And with the warm sun streaming in through the curtains of the Manor, Bruce’s comforting, heavy weight on his back and the bliss of having come your brains out way too many times the night before, what could Hal say? At least he’ll be familiar with one person in this League. 

Now he can’t help the feeling that there are galaxies between him and Bruce, with his implacable cowl and the empty white lenses. He wonders if he even hallucinated that warm memory, if that lover was even Bruce at all. He sure looked the same, tasted the same, but this man would throw him in the line of fire to save anyone else—Arrow, Canary, Supes, Wonder Woman, Aquaman, hell probably even Shazam. And adding this spear thing to his track record, the odds were surely not in his favour. 

But self-realization struck Hal pretty soon, and the clarity of it felt like it was lacerating him. There was no way to describe it, except that one time on Oa when Sinestro lanced him through the stomach with a yellow construct and he hadn’t been able to craft a shield in time. It was that freezing cold moment when time slowed rather dramatically, and he felt that construct slicing through every single cell and sinew. Bruce had slept with him, given him the time of the day as Bruce Wayne and not Batman, so that he would be brought into the League. It was the perfect plan, if Boy Scout or Diana had asked him to join this kind of goody-two-shoes hero tea party, there was no way he would have. He was too sure of himself as the Green Lantern, protector of sector 2814. Earth was a backwater that he could keep half an eye on, even if he hailed from there. It was not like Earth was all too nice to him anyway. And then came Bruce, who so insanely offered to be abducted into an alien mothership in order to investigate. At that point, he had fallen in deep and it definitely showed to Bruce, even if he himself was unaware. 

It was an opening, to which loyalty could be garnered through manufactured affection and docility guaranteed through repeated rounds of mind-blowing sex. It was the perfect ruse, and god knows no one ever accused Bruce Wayne and Batman of being bad actors. Both dealt in theatrics, and were equally stellar. Hal Jordan would be a piece of cake, believing in whatever he wanted to believe in, given a little nudge here and some convincing there. 

He was aware he had been quiet for some time now, lost in thought. The cowl simply stared back at him, and he felt the uncontrollable urge to destroy its wearer. If there was anything, he hated being mocked. He could feel the constructs already building, a quick plasma canon would do the trick and eliminate the need for close combat. The world around him seemed to blur and everything given an odd yellow tinge. He could vaguely feel the plasma gun mounting on his shoulder, and fiery hot coils of plasma aiming themselves at Bruce. 

Batman naturally came prepared. Within 2 seconds of the first coil, smoke bombs had been set off, flooding the entire cave. Blinded, all Hal could feel was the quick zip of ties around his body and the inescapable and uncanny feeling of the ring being lifted from his finger. Of fucking course, even the actual universe would prefer Bruce Wayne to handle intergalactic power, rather than this fuck-up white trash here who launched plasma coil at people after being scolded for losing something. 

His glowing green suit disintegrated, and Hal Jordan sat there bound up on the floor of the cave in a dirty pair of jeans. It was for the best that the ring was taken from him. Even he knew in this state, he had to be neutralized. Batman stepped in front of him, grasping the ring in his palm, staring down as impeccable as ever. As he knelt down, Hal braced himself for the sweet, relieving punch of the gauntlet on his cheek. Punishment for failure, it would reset the order of things. 

Instead, Bruce cradled his face with one hand, slipping off the cowl to lock eyes. Hal realized distinctly that he was trembling and sweating now, nausea building up and threatening to push forth his throat. 

“I will not let you do this, Hal. You are projecting that self-hatred so immense on to other things and other people so you don’t have to come to terms with how much you loathe yourself. It’s been seeping into your constructs, the way you handle missions, everything. This has become a mess,” Hal was shaking by now, teeth clenched so hard his jaw was aching. 

“But I am right here, sweetheart, and I’m here with you. Don’t go some place I can’t follow. I can help you, and so can Dinah.”

Hal stared into the abyss of abject failure and now of abject pity. It stared back unforgivingly. His body slumped, giving way. A new ring shot into the cave at his body’s instinctual command, fitting itself onto his ring finger, where the previous one used to be. 

He opened his eyes and grinned. 

Parallax.


End file.
